The Borg Chronicals: Chapters 1 & 2
by machiavelli
Summary: The Voyager is being stalked by an old enemy...
1. Chapter 1

Star Trek:

The Borg Chronicals

by

Moshe Ender

NightDark@aol.com

Based on Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry. All rights reserved by Paramount Pictures.

Author's Note:

As I am not privy to the thoughts of the writers and producers of Paramount's Star Trek, this sequence roughly diverges from the Paramount story at about the beginning of the 1997-98 season. Voyager has passed through Borg space (the "Scorpion" episodes) and the Federation is at war with the Dominion\Cardassian alliance. It is best to expect differences from the official Paramount storyline.

1:

The Ambush and the Abduction

"Life is one long process of getting tired."

-- Notebooks

"Lord, What Is Man ?"

by Samuel Butler

**Intersection**

This time, the meeting was called in the Other Continuum. There is no other name to describe it -- however, the Other Continuum is somewhat different from Another Continuum, and somewhat more different than Another Other Continuum. It is most certainly different to spacetime, the flat surface imagined by Einstein and a hundred others, in which dwelled the less advanced life forms, the Trill and the Vulcans and the Andorians and a billion other races, each a scattering of life in the infinite darkness of their continuum. And in those billions of races, there was one known as the Humans. 

It was that race with which those in the meeting were concerned with.

It should be noted that creatures of the continuum called spacetime cannot possibly comprehend the meeting in its true form. Had an individual from Spacetime been at the meeting, he or she or it would have not been able to handle the intricacy of the meeting, the alienness of it all to not only its own viewpoint, but to its own dimension. Had such an individual been at this meeting, one of the beings there would have provided a comfortable illusion for the inhabitant of Spacetime, less the meeting had lacked a gracious host. And while the hosts would have gladly done so for the poor individual, there were no such inhabitants at this particular meeting. 

However, Spacetime (or the events inside of Spacetime) was the foremost topic of conversation and concern.

"They've secured another anchor, you know," said one member of the meeting. "Just before I came, I [saw / felt / sensed] them make the connection."

"At this rate, they've already won," remarked another member.

"Don't be so pessimistic," said one of the hosts. "There's still Spacetime."

"Ay," said another host. "It comes down to that, doesn't it."

"All the more reason to prepare that continuum for battle," said the first member. "Look at the bright side, we've isolated them into the one galaxy."

"Which lets them concentrate their forces and their contacts," said the second member. "In another month, we won't be able to erase a single one of them out of the timestream !"

"So ?" the first host said.

"So it means we're leaving most of this up to the Humans !" 

"You should talk," shot back the first host. Before the second member could retort, the first host went on. "They'll do in a pinch. If we can give them enough resources, they might just make it."

"Unless they use it all to bicker amongst themselves," said the second member harshly.

"If we play it just right, they won't be able to," said the first member. "And you know how they are with their backs to the walls."

"At the very least," said the second host, "the Humans'll damage them. That will come in handy, even if they do lose."

At that point, the meeting was interrupted by the entrance of another beings, specifically one of the hosts, a messenger. "Excuse me," said the messenger, in an urgent voice (if it could be called that). "Excuse me, but we just got a message from one of our contacts in Spacetime."

"Who ?" asked the first host.

"One of the [untranslatable in English], the Caretaker of Ocampa."

"I thought they had destroyed him by now," said the second member.

"Not yet," said the second host. "Not yet. Is the message important, because if --"

"Yes, yes, it's important !" said the messenger, with an almost exuberant feeling. "He's found the Trinidas, brought him to the Delta Quadrant !"

All in the meeting exclaimed in surprise and not a little joy. "Quick !" said the second host. "What does it say ?"

The massager read off in a language not known to Humans, nor to anyone save the race that created it. The message is barely translatable into other languages, having several overtones and sequences based on concepts difficult for a Human to understand. But at its very base, the message would translate to this in English:

HIS NAME IS KIM.

**The Delta Quadrant**

In the fourth of the galaxy known as the Alpha Quadrant, the finest starships ever to exist that part of space belong to the Federation's Starfleet. As the exploration and military arm of the Federation, Starfleet has served the interplanetary government for two hundred years. And along the way, it was inevitable that legends were made. Tales are whispered from the heart of the Alpha Quadrant to the fringes of the Beta of the six ships to bear the name Enterprise, of the tragedy of the Constellation, and, in some places, of the battleship Defiant.

It is somewhat ironic that the ship with one of the more interesting stories was forgotten by most in the Federation in the latter twenty-fourth century. This starship had set out on its first mission in the year 2371, into the shifting plasma clouds known as the Badlands. Some hours after the starship entered the clouds, it utterly disappeared. It took Starfleet three days to realize the starship was not responding. A search mission was launched, and was unsuccessful. But by that time Starfleet had encountered the powerful foe known as the Dominion, and the ships in the search were called off to new assignment. The lost starship was declared destroyed, the matter was closed.

Had a being with an extraordinarily powerful subspace telescope scanned the galaxy, it would have seen the movements of Starfleet in the Alpha Quadrant. In the Beta Quadrant, it would have seen the starships of the Klingon and Romulan Empires in their complex dance of strategies. In the Gamma Quadrant, it would have seen the massive fleet of the Dominion, manned by the vicious Jem'Hadar. 

And in the Delta Quadrant, it would have seen a flurry of warp core signatures and frequencies. But if the telescope was powerful enough, if it could make out the complex signatures of individual ships, it would have found the signature it had seen before, that of a Starfleet Intrepid - class starship. The being who operated the telescope would no doubt be puzzled by this strange fact, as the distance between the starship and the Alpha Quadrant would take three quarters of a century to commute.

That starship was, in fact, the starship lost to the Federation in 2371. It had been knocked there by an alien of unknown origin, and had found it impossible to be transported by similar means back to its home. Resigned to its fate, the starship began its impossible journey home, finding shortcuts here and there along the way, but most of time left on its own.

The starship's name was Voyager, and in the end of the year 2375, it had, by both luck and conventional means, transversed 16 of its 75 year journey.

**USS Voyager**

**Leaving the Iiain System**

**Stardate 52995**

Ensign Harry Kim, Operations senior officer on board the starship Voyager, stepped out of the turbolift and almost immediately fell flat onto his face. The five or six PADDs he had been carrying, as a result, were quickly scattered all over the floor.

After the unexpected shock of the fall, and the equally unexpected taste of Starfleet-regulation carpet in his mouth, Kim lifted himself off of the floor. That bump hadn't been there before ! he thought to himself. He took a quick glance around the corridor, and was relieved to find that it was vacant. He picked up the PADDs and set off on his way.

**The Iiana System**

A heavily shielded subspace signal shot out of Voyager and threw itself away from the starship, to a point eighty-five AUs from the rapidly accelerating starship's course. The frequency bound into the radiation emitted by the ship's warp engines, Voyager, both crew and computer, did not detect it.

Nor did the sensors pick up another subspace signal two seconds later, transmitted by that indiscreet point eighty-five AUs away from Voyager. Somewhere in the starship, a piece of machinery that shouldn't have been there activated.

And somewhere inside that point that trailed Voyager at eighty-five AUs, a viewscreen activated. A request was imputed into the computer, which relayed it back to the machine on Voyager, which in turn sent back the requested information. The requested information had, in fact, come from Voyager's computers, and looked like this:

USS VOYAGER

NCC - 74656

INTREPID - CLASS STARSHIP, FEDERATION STARFLEET

CREW REGISTRY:

SENIOR OFFICERS:

CAPTAIN KATHRYN JANEWAY, commanding officer.

COMMANDER CHAKOTAY, first officer.

LIEUTENANT TUVOK, tactical officer.

LIEUTENANT THOMAS PARIS, helm officer

LIEUTENANT B'ELANNA TORRES, chief of engineering

ENSIGN HARRY KIM, operations officer

NOTE:

CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER DECLARED KIA ON STARDATE 48315.6. THE EMERGENCY MEDICAL HOLOGRAPHIC (EMH) PROGRAM WAS ACTIVATED ON SAME STARDATE TO TAKE OVER DUTIES OF THE CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER, PENDING ASSIGNMENT OF NEW MEDICAL OFFICER.

REGULAR CREW: 104

CIVILIAN PERSONNEL:

NEELIX, moral officer

SEVEN OF NINE, engineering personnel

The crew manifest itself had no importance to the being that operated the computer eighty-five AUs from Voyager. The fact that the being had gained access to the computer systems of the Federation starship in question carried much more weight. 

**USS Voyager**

Kim rushed into the 0700 conference meeting at exactly 0659 and 25 seconds. Hurriedly, he went to his usual chair around the long table and sat down, nearly dropping his PADDs on the way. To his relief, no one noticed him beyond an amused glance.

The other officers had already been in the room when he had come in. Next to him sat Tom Paris, the helm and Kim's best friend since Voyager had left Federation space (and subsequently hadn't come back). Further up the table, vigorous Neelix, the Delta Quadrant native, tapped his fingers and hummed a merry tune which seemed to have been produced on the spot and in rhythm with the fingers. Next to the self-declared guide, morale officer and cook, B'Elanna Torres bit her lip, her anxious human eyes, obviously worrying about some little detail or another, contrasting with her fierce Klingon's brow. Across from Torres, the Emergency Medical Holographic Program's sardonic eyes wandered around the room, the portable holographic project a brown blemish on his otherwise green uniform. On the other side of Paris sat Tuvok, his face utterly devoid of feeling, as usual -- the Vulcan race's devotion to logic over emotions was both renowned and a source of annoyance throughout the Federation. Across from Tuvok, Chakotay looked slightly thoughtful, his eyes pointed into nothingness. And at the very end of the table preceding over it all sat Captain Janeway, at the very head of the table. She hardly seemed to be a commanding officer in her nature, but in her eyes, one could see the authority and responsibility she exercised on a daily basis. 

At exactly 0700 hours, the meeting of the senior officers began in earnest. Janeway started out with the gentle command, "B'Elanna, report."

Engineering first -- not a surprise. Engineering was important on starships in the Federation; to Voyager, it was crucial. Not only was the starship cut off from the regular starbase maintenance and overhaul most ships enjoyed, it was the crew's only advantage in a hostile part of the galaxy. Federation technology had made the ship a target in the past; the power-hungry Kazon had first tried, then the Viidians and the Pralor. Torres had managed to hold everything together for the past few years, but Voyager still suffered enough wear-and-tear that a person unfamiliar with the ship's dilemma would assume he or she or it had set foot upon a ship ten years old than Voyager was.

"Everything all right in Engineering," said Torres. "We just installed the warp drives in the Nelson and Rabin. The Phoenix just needs a computer initialization before it's ready to go."

Ah, yes, the new shuttles. The Delta Quadrant had been, if at all possible, even more unfriendly to the shuttles than to Voyager. Of the original 15 runabouts the ship had carried, only 6 had survived the last few years. A month ago, Janeway and Torres had decided enough was enough. The Voyager had collected the parts as it went along, the majority of materials coming from Iiana III, Voyager's last stop.

And abruptly the spotlight went on Kim. Janeway turned to him. "Harry ?"

"I've rewritten the code to the navigational program," he replied. "The computer's should be finishing up on the revised weapon codes. All to your specifications, Captain."

She smiled. "Excellent. Notify me when it's ready to go. Neelix ?"

"We filled up our stores at Iiana," said the pudgy Talaxian quite happily. "Vegetables from !zxc province, fruits from Zmyt!h City, the most delicious meats from the suburbs of Utq@l!n..."

It was at this point that Kim was utterly lost to the meeting when a sudden and abrupt thought came out of nowhere and severely compromised his attention span, the though in question being: how exactly _did_ one pronounce such words as !zxc ? For that matter, how had Neelix pronounced them ? For the life of him, Kim couldn't remember just how the cook (/ morale officer / budding security officer / cheerful pet peeve) had managed to get them out, while managing to communicate the exact spelling of each one, !s and @s included. After another three minutes of this, Kim arrived at the possibility that Talaxians were telepathic. 

That last thought led to the question of how to back this theory up, which in turn led to complicated plots to lure Neelix into Sickbay, while at the same time getting the Doctor to conduct scans for telepathy. While chances were that Kim would never execute these plots, and other chances were that linguistic skills picked up on one planet or another had more to do with the subject than latent telepathy, Kim accepted all of this as the usual alternative to the usual staff meetings.

And, in a rather rude and abrupt manner, his usual thoughts in the usual type of staff meeting was disrupted by the usual comm call from the bridge. What made this round of usuals unusual was that the usual comm call came in the middle of a usual staff meeting.

"Bridge to Janeway."

But, despite the unusual part in a usual day, Janeway answered the comm anyway. "Janeway here. Go ahead."

"We're receiving a distress call from a Iianan trading vessel. Its captain says it was attacked and disabled. None of the crew was killed, but they would appreciate some help."

"Fair enough. Divert course to the Iianan ship."

"Aye, captain. ETA 17 minutes."

"We'll be right up. Janeway out." She turned back to the conference table. "Now, where were we ?"

And everything went back to normal. Except the subject of Kim's thoughts, who now contented himself with calculating the exact proportion of days in which something usual happened to Voyager to days where something unusual happened. But if something unusual happened more than something usual happened, unusual would technically be usual ! Kim quickly became bored by this train of thought, and went back to the subject of Talaxian telepathy and the associated plots.

**Outside the Iiana System**

Voyager slowed to a stop, next to a drifting Iianan vessel. The Federation starship dwarfed the other vessel; its graceful lines contrasted with the blocky Iianan construction, which had apparently seen better days. 

Those two ships now stopped dead in space. This gave the third ship in the picture -- the one that had avoided detection by both ships -- the chance to catch up to its quarry.

**USS Voyager**

"Captain," said Tuvok, from the tactical console on the bridge. "The Iianian vessel is hailing us."

"On screen," ordered Janeway from the command chair. The viewscreen to the front of the bridge flickered from a view of a small blocky ship to one of a thickly feathered humanoid. "I am Captain Janeway of the Federation starship Voyager," the captain said to the Iianian. "We picked up your distress call."

"I am Director Quyia of the Iianan ship !Tortal~a," replied the humanoid. "Thank you for responding, Captain."

(There it was again, thought Kim from his console to the back of the bridge. How the heck did one pronounce !Tortal~a ?)

"We were attacked on our way home from Requis Prime," continued Quyia. "As you can no doubt see, our engines are heavily disabled."

"Are any of your crew injured ?" asked Janeway.

"Nothing we can't handle. Our only problem is the warp engines. You see, we bought them from a Deltarian trader, and, well, they don't do too good under stress. Perhaps if you have another engine for sale, I could --"

"I'm afraid we don't," said Janeway.

"Ah well," said Quyia, apparently disappointed. "Thank you for responding, anyway." The Iianian motioned for the connection to be terminated.

"Hold on." Only the crew of Voyager (including Kim) could tell how amused Janeway was. "We don't have a spare warp drive on hand, but our sensors show your engines are hardly unrepairable."

The Iianian almost reared back in surprise. "They are ?" 

"You can't tell ?"

"I'm afraid not. Our engineer is on sort of a vacation. Long story there, don't bother to ask."

Janeway couldn't help but smile this time. "We'll send an engineering team over immediately."

"Thank you. Oh, and by the way..."

"Yes ?"

"I've heard a great deal about Voyager," Quyia said, almost hesitantly. "Your ship is becoming quite famous in this area of space. Would you mind if... I came over and took a look around ?"

Janeway shot an amused glance in Tuvok's direction, who raised an eyebrow nonchalantly. "I don't see a problem with that," said the captain. "We'll beam you over after the engineering team arrives."

"Thank you so much, Captain," said Quyia. "We appreciate this a lot. !Tortal~a out."

The next thing Kim knew, he was back in the conference room. He blinked in surprise, and wondered if he was telepathic and just didn't know about it. Either that, or I have to start paying attention to these things.

The door swished open, and Tuvok led in Director Quyia. The Iianian seemed excited (at least by human standards). His eyes snapped throughout the conference room, drinking in every small detail. It can't be that impressive, thought Kim.

Kim's eyes strayed over the faces of his shipmates. Having witnessed the initial contact with the good Director, he would have expected, at the very least, a slight bout of amusement in polite hiding, just barely visible, like a sparkle in an eye. To his surprise, there was no amusement. From Captain Janeway to Tom Paris, the room was deadly serious. Kim mentally shrunk back into himself. I, he thought, am definitely going to start paying attention.

Quyia, apparently lacking knowledge of human body language, did not pick up on the grimness resident around the table. He immediately turned towards Janeway. "Captain," he said, feathers twitching, "I have seen hundreds of ships in my lifetime, and none of them -- not even the treasure ship of the Renax System -- are as magnificent as yours."

Janeway allowed a small smile. "Thank you, Director."

"And speaking of ships... I trust the !Tortal~a hasn't exploded on you yet ?"

The captain looked at Torres. "We have five engineers working on the engines now," the engineer said. "Just some damage to the power grid. We'll have it fixed in no time."

"Excellent !" the Director said.

"Now, Director," said Janeway, "there are just a few questions we would like to ask you."

"By all means, ask ! Ask ! It is the least I can do for you."

"Who attacked your ship ?"

"Ah, well -- I've never heard of them before, really," said Quyia. "Definitely not your usual pirates. They came out of nowhere, took out our engines with one shot, and hailed us -- audio frequency only, you see. Demanded that we gave them access to our main computer. We did, of course -- what else were we supposed to do ? They searched through our databanks, then took off. My computer expert -- Difkar, nice kid, a bit lost to reality, y'know the type. Anyway, Difkar traced their search pattern. Looks like they were concentrating on past sensor records, specifically ships we had seen in the past few days. Records of warp core frequencies, transponder codes, that sort of thing."

"Did they identify themselves ?" asked Chakotay. 

"They did say something -- I can't quite recall the name. Called themselves the Prayers, something like that."

"Perhaps," said Tuvok, "the word you are looking for is Pralor."

"Yes, that's it !" said Quyia. "That's it, exactly ! Why, do you know them ?"

"From a long time ago," said Janeway, as she sat back in her chair. "We didn't expect to hear from them again."

**Outside the Iianian System**

The ship quietly sat 20 AUs from Voyager, its warp engines comfortably deactivated. On board, another query was sent to the object on Voyager. The query was answered, and data was fed back:

PRALOR AUTOMATED PERSONNEL UNIT

A sentient robot, built by a race named the Pralor to fight their war against the Cravic. The Cravic, in turn, developed nearly identical automations to battle against the Pralor robots. Both groups of robots were programmed to destroy the enemy at all costs. They can be told apart by the color of their faces; Pralor robots have silver faces, while Cravic robots have gold masks. 

The Pralor and Cravic eventually negotiated peace. The Automated Personnel Units built by both sides correctly realized that peace was a threat to their existance. The units turned against their creators, and both Pralor and Cravic were wiped out. The Pralor and Cravic robots continued their war after the destruction of their creator. Fortunately, both types of units were designed with chromodynamic power modules, a technology they were not successful in replicating. They were thus not able to reproduce themselves. 

In mid-2372, first contact was made when Voyager encountered a damaged mining pod with a deactivated Pralor robot inside. The robot, designated Pralor Automated Personnel Unit 3947, was repaired by Chief Engineer Torres, with assistance from Ensign Kim. Soon afterwards, a Pralor vessel arrived, apparently to pick up Unit 3947. At the last moment, 3947 abducted Torres, beaming over to the Pralor ship. There she was forced to create a prototype Pralor unit, with a type of power source that could be easily replicated. This being a violation of the Prime Directive, Torres destroyed the unit upon learning that the Pralor destroyed their creators. The Pralor vessel was neutralized when a Cravic vessel engaged it, thus giving time for Voyager to beam Torres out. Detailed photographic recordings available. Links to logs created at that time are available. Sensor Analysis of Pralor Weaponry (inc. radiation traces and identifying patterns) available...

On board the ship, a being considered this information for a few moments. This would change plans considerably.

**The Voyager**

"We analyzed the radiation traces on the damaged conduits," said Torres. "There's no doubt about it. It's definitely the Pralor."

"We left their space years ago," noted Chakotay softly.

"Apparently, they've moved recently," said Janeway. "Tuvok, start developing some defenses against the Pralor weapons. I don't want to be caught off guard, like last time." Which hadn't been the best of times -- the Pralor weaponry had abruptly turned out to be equal, if not superior, to that of Voyager's. The starship had found itself, its shields torn apart, at the full mercy of the Pralor vessel.

Quyia was still in the room, distantly following the conversation. The Iianian's eyes bounced around the room, hungrily absorbing its every detail. Those eyes were shocked into concentration when Captain Janeway said, "Director, we have one other thing to ask of you."

"Yes ?"

Janeway nodded to the back of the room. Out of the corner stepped out Seven, the recent addition to the engineering crew. "Recently," she said, "Voyager has been needing a replacement subprocessor for the main computer. While we were repairing your ship, we stumbled upon a suitable replacement in one of !Tortal~a's cargo holds."

"Ah, that would be Item F46-G," said the director cheerfully. "I got it from a load of Vipiq pirates -- primitive bunch, could barely operate their own ships. Picked it up on some abandoned planet or another, couldn't figure out what it was. I got it for 3 byisers. It's all yours... I don't wish to impose my will on you, but there is one small little tiny thing I would like in exchange."

Captain Janeway almost sighed. "And that is ?" asked Paris from the side of the table.

"As I said, sir," said Quyia humbly, "your ship is the most magnificent in this part of the galaxy. I will remember my time on board Voyager for the rest of my life. All I ask for is a small souvenir, to remember the time. Perhaps one of the flashing analysis devices you have, or maybe a few of those little ceramic cups you drink that black liquid out of..."

"Two coffee cups," said Neelix.

"Six," said Quyia.

"Three cups, and I'll throw in a copy of any book in the cultural databanks, your choice."

"Done !" the director said gleefully.

"A few coffee cups for a computer processor ?" asked Chakotay.

"It's all a matter of how you use the merchandise, Commander," said Neelix. "The director will no doubt sell the stuff at the next port he comes to. The Voyager is somewhat of a conversation topic wherever we go; he'll be able to market 'em to the avid collectors of the area. By the time the auction's over, he'll be able to buy himself another ship, at the very least a new engineer."

Quyia looked at Neelix, a new respect in his eyes. "You're good at this." Neelix looked smug.

A commlink opened from the bridge. "Bridge to Conference Room," said the voice of -- Ensign Chell ? Remerson ? Kim couldn't tell.

"Janeway here," said the captain.

"Captain, the Tortal.... !Tortal... !Tortalwhatsis is hailing us. It's for their director."

Kim turned to Quyia, who had produced a communicator (one of the blocky, handheld versions) out of his robes. "Quyia here," the director snapped into it. "What is it ?"

"Difkar here, sir," a rather meek voice said out of the comm. "Could I speak to you in private, sir ? If it's not too much trouble right now, but I've found something rather important that I thought you should take a look at. I'm terribly sorry, sir, but..."

"All right, all right." Quyia turned to Janeway. "Could I take this out in the corridor, Captain ?" he asked. "It's probably just a problem in the accounts. Company business, y'understand." Janeway nodded, and Quyia exited the room.

The room was silent for a moment. "Excuse me, Captain," Neelix finally said, "but I wasn't aware of this problem with the main computer. Is it unimportant ?"

"The subprocessors in the main computer are in full working condition," said Seven.

"But you just said --"

"It was a lie."

"What ?"

"Lieutenant Torres recommended it, under the circumstances."

"Which are ?" asked Chakotay.

"That computer we found in the Tortalwhatsis' hull ?" replied Torres. "It isn't just some junk scrounged up by pirates. It's from a Borg ship."

BORG !

It was at this moment, where he was somewhere in between shock and fear, in which a stray memory surfaced into Harry Kim's eyes.

He was a freshman at Starfleet Academy, accepted as a cadet mere weeks before. He was lying belly-down on his bed, in the dorm. In front of him lay a small subspace transponder, tuned to the audio-only transmissions from the news networks. It was at that moment when it came, and giving despair and fear reign over Earth. 

"This just in," the announcer of the network said. "The Federation armada at Wolf 359 has failed, repeat, failed to stop the Borg cube. The Borg have gotten through the armada and are now on their way to Earth. Starfleet is now marshaling its defense forces inside system -- they have every confidence that they will able to destroy the cube before it reaches Earth. Remain calm, repeat, remain calm. There is no need to panic."

The need to panic, Kim thought, had just ripped through 40 starships without so much as a paper cut, and was now on its way to destroy the very center of the Federation. Captain Jean-Luc Picard assimilated. God knows how many people dead. And more to come, many more to come.

The Borg were a nightmare, a technological apocalypse. They were a race of cyborgs, half organic, half machine. Each individual was linked into a subspace network, creating the huge shared consciousness they called the collective. Their technology was unmatched anywhere, as was their mechanical thirst for conquest.

It had long occurred to the Borg that it was not efficient to simply destroy other races. The knowledge (and, more importantly, the technology) of those races, they decided, could be put to work for the Borg's purposes. And thus was developed the dark technique of assimilation. Mechanical implants would be placed inside the body of the unfortunate sentient who had engaged them, slaving that being's mind to the Borg's will. Once one was assimilated, one was then one of the Borg, incapable of resistance, no longer an individual. It was in this way the Collective expanded to include thousands of worlds and hundreds of races. 

They slowly expanded their territory. Race after race fell to them; technology after technology was added to their own. They would not stop until the entire part of the galaxy in which they lived was assimilated. After that, they would go onto the next part, then the next, and would not cease until their territory was the galaxy itself. And after that, the closest galaxy; then the next closest, and the next. In all truth, the Borg would never stop expanding, never stop assimilating. There would always be another galaxy they did not control, another race they had not engaged. But the Borg accepted that. They were half machine, and were thus very patient. 

All in all, Kim might have had a chance not to engage the Borg, had not Voyager unfortunately ended in the Delta Quadrant: the part of the galaxy in which the main part of Borg territory lay.

The Voyager had gone through Borg space about a year before. It had been a terrifying experience, one that had been burned into Kim's memory. Had it not been for a massive alien strike against the Borg, he doubted the ship would've gotten out intact. Now they were well out of that horrible place, and would never look back. However, there were a few reminders of that time here and there -- for example, Seven.

On their journey through Borg space, Voyager had managed to capture a Borg drone. It had eventually become evident that the drone, designated Seven of Nine, was a human female, assimilated by the Borg at an early age. Once disconnected her from the collective, the drone had eventually become part of the crew. She had shortened her name to Seven, and been assigned to Engineering.

Seven's past had never come back to haunt her. The word Borg was never mentioned on board the ship, save in the whispers of the crew. Whether or not her new life on board ship disturbed her, Kim did not know; her face was like that of a Vulcan, constantly logical, not a flicker of emotion. But as far as he could tell, she had never had to look back at her life with the Borg, never had to face her past. 

Never, until now. Kim wondered how she would react. 

In the middle of the shocked silence following Torres' announcement, Quyia came back in.

The Iianian lacked his customary cheerfulness. His feathers had extended outward; the expression on his face was one of anxiety. If he hadn't looked so distressed, he would have looked ridiculous.

"Captain," he said. "We have something you should know. Difkar, tell them."

"I managed to pin down the sensor pattern the attackers were looking for," squeaked Difkar through the communicator. "I first ran it through the Iianian transit database, and didn't find anything. I tried the public databanks, but that didn't work eit --"

"Just tell them, Difkar !" Quyia said, looking more annoyed than distressed now.

"Yes, sir !" the meek voice said at an incredibly fast rate of speech. "The Pralor were looking for a sensor pattern that matches that of -- of -- oh, I can't pronounce this name !"

"Voyager," the director filled in.

"Voyager !"

It took a moment for Kim to decode the fast barrage of words, and another moment to absorb the implications. Paris beat him to it:

"The Pralor were looking for Voyager ?" the helmsman exploded.

Janeway sighed, with the expression of one who had too much to think about. "Thank you, Director," she said. "I believe we have had enough surprises for one meeting. Adjourned."

**USS Voyager**

**Stardate 52996**

Kim looked through the viewport in his quarters. He had a good view of the !Tortal~a, as it lumbered away from Voyager at impulse power. Having been sufficiently repaired to make it back to Iiana, its blocky engines activated. And with a flash of rainbow light, Voyager and the ship with the impossible name parted company, for the first and most likely the last time.

He went back to his computer terminal and a rather vicious struggle between him and the computer's search engine. He was trying to find the works of the famous Tellerite humorist Ramvab. The best the computer could come up with was an ancient Earth scholar by the name of Maimonides. It's impossible to find a good cultural search engine these days, Kim reflected. He tried again...

... and promptly, his comm badge beeped. He sighed and hit it hard -- hard enough to knock the badge across the room. "Kim here," he called out as he retrieved the communicator.

"Harry ?" said Paris' voice. "You know 'bout the shuttle test tomorrow, right ?" 

"The Nelson's flight test ?" said Kim as he fumbled the badge. 

"Yeah, something's come up. Could you take over for me ?"

Kim smiled knowingly as he stabilized the badge in his hand and tried to place it on his tunic. "Date with B'Elanna, hmmm ?"

"It's the only time we're both free for the next week."

The attempt to replace the badge utterly failed. It fell to the ground. 

How long had his friend been involved with Torres ? Kim tried to recall as he bent down again. Almost a year now.

"Sure," he sighed as he swiped the badge off the carpet.

"What ?"

"Sure, if it's okay with the captain."

"Thanks, Harry. I owe you one."

"You better believe it," he said crossly, more annoyed by the comm badge than anything else. Paris ended the call on his end, leaving Kim to once again unsuccessfully attempt to reattach his badge. Do I have to glue this thing on ?

The Voyager had entered warp once again. Its next stop would be a day later, at a location predetermined to be perfect for shuttle tests. It was still unaware of the hidden vessel, which quietly followed Voyager at a distance of a half million kilometers.

**The Qutaran Cloud**

It was a large cloud of dust and gas, created by the explosion of a star five thousand years ago. A thick density allowed light from far-off stars to reflect off the cloud. This created a light show of unsurpassed size and beauty, available to whomever could see it.

The next closest star lay six lightyears away from the cloud, and bore many similarity to the far-off sun known as Sol. Around the star orbited an inhabited Class-M planet, known as Zalcoris. The cloud could easily be seen by the naked (Zalcorian) eye; indeed it was a prominent object in their sky. Though the Zalcorians had not yet achieved warp travel, they did have telescopes, and thus had the capability to look deep into the heart of the celestial object. Every day, sentients around Zalcoris peered into their instruments and focused on the cloud. Scientists did so routinely, in order to observe the gravitational collapse of the cloud into itself, which someday would give birth to a new star. Amateur astronomers focused into the night sky, simply to appreciate the beauty of it. Others observed for completely strange reason; in fact, a major religion had sprung up on Zalcoris, proclaiming to the effect that the future of the galaxy could be predicted by the average density of the cloud, a factor which changed on a daily basis. 

And so it was that, six years after the Federation stardate 52997, that observers all around Zalcoris were shocked to discover a rather unnatural pinpoint of light, hovering just outside of the cloud. They were in for a show.

**At the edge of the Cloud**

**Stardate 52997**

"Shuttle Nelson, you are clear to launch," reported the computer. Kim pressed the appropriate button, and the runabout lumbered out of the bay.

It was easier than Kim remembered. He had not piloted a shuttle for several years (in part due to a rather bizarre experience involving the shuttlecraft Drake and a stream of chroniton particles), but one rarely forgot their training in such matters. 

This was the Nelson's first flight. Paris had tested the Phoenix while they were still in the Iianian system, and the Rabin still required shields. All of the shuttles, however, had yet to receive all the computer software needed. As a result, the Nelson only had rudimentary shields and no offensive weaponry. Still, Torres had managed to bring the sensors and engines up to full capability, and had even managed to get the on-board transporters working. The computer would test that all out as they went through the flight. All in all, it would take less than a half-hour.

Kim opened a channel to Voyager. "Nelson to Voyager," he said. "Beginning test run on warp engines."

"Noted and logged," replied Tuvok's dry voice.

Kim punched another button. The engines hummed, and Nelson threw itself forward at exactly one-sixteenth of the speed of light. He sat back in his chair and relaxed. 

This was going to be a piece of cake.

**USS Voyager**

**The Bridge**

Five minutes later, with the Nelson a good million and a half kilometers distant, a routine sensor scan picked up something that, had it been capable of emotion, would have distressed the computer. Emotional ability or not, the computer did what it had been designed to do, what it was best at: it passed the information on to the crew.

On the bridge, Tuvok's console beeped.

The Vulcan checked it, and said, "Captain, there are two ships approaching us through the dust cloud."

"On screen," Janeway said.

The viewscreen obediently showed a forward image. There, in the hugeness of the cloud, one could just barely see two specks of an approaching mass. Tuvok enlarged the view, and everything changed.

Two Pralor ships plowed through the cloud. Triangular in shape, silver in color, roughly the same dimensions as Voyager; Janeway identified them on sight.

"Go to Yellow Alert," she said. "Tuvok, put up the shields. Standby phasers. Voyager to Nelson -- get back here, Harry. Now."

**The Nelson**

The runabout's excellent sensor array picked up the Pralor a few seconds after Janeway's order came through. Kim gulped, turned the shuttle around, and sped up to full impulse (too short a distance for warp drive). 

**The Bridge**

"We're picking up ten small ships, launching off the Pralor ships," reported Chakotay. The first officer had taken Kim's customary place at Ops. "They look like fighters."

Janeway regarded the viewscreen. Ten small pyramids, each about fifteen meters long, pulled away from the larger ships at an alarming speed. They came together in front of the larger ships, in what was obviously an attack formation. Janeway kept her calm. "Mr. Tuvok," she said, "when will they enter phaser range ?"

"At their present speed, two minutes."

"Open hailing frequencies." Chakotay nodded.

**Nearby Voyager**

The hidden ship lay a close five hundred thousand kilometers away from Voyager. It observed the coming and going of the Nelson with particular interest, especially the messages between the runabout and the starship. The Pralor ships it all but ignored; those were not a threat. 

On board, the commander turned to address its assistants. "Prepare initiation of final phase, on my mark."

**The Bridge**

"Hailing frequencies open," the computer reported.

"Pralor ships," said Janeway from the command chair, "this is the Federation starship Voyager. We mean you no harm. Please break off your course."

No response. "Pralor vessels, this is Voyager. Once again, please break off your course..."

At that moment, the Pralor transmitted one message. It was audio only, brief, to the point, and somewhat strange under the circumstances.

A mechanical voice said, "We apologize for the inconvenience."

"They are locking their weapons on us," said Tuvok.

Some inconvenience ! thought Janeway. "Red alert. Tom, evasive maneuvers."

**Nearby Voyager**

The commander said, "Now."

On board Voyager, the machine went to work.

**The Nelson**

On Kim's viewscreen, the Voyager went dead.

**The Bridge**

Abruptly, there was no light on the bridge. The consoles had died, the lights were gone, the viewscreen was dark; the place Janeway knew so well had gone as dead as a tome.

"Emergency lights," she said. Nothing happened. "Is everyone all right ?"

A chorus of voices answered. Janeway took it that yes, everyone was fine, despite the fact that the bridge was cut from all power and they would be out of air and dying of hypothermia in a few hours. 

Janeway's comm badge beeped. "Engineering to Janeway," said Torres' voice. "Is power cut up there, too ?"

"Yes. From 'up there,' I take it Engineering has the same problem."

"Everything except the warp core," replied the engineer. "The containment field's backup power module went active; we don't have to worry about blowing up, at the very least. As far as I can tell, the shields are still online."

"What happened ?"

"Computer virus. The Pralor must have found some way to lock out power to the ship; I can't see how else they could've done it. I've got some techs trying to access the computer by their tricorders --"

At that moment, Voyager shook like an ancient sailing vessel hit by a cannon blast. And again. And again. "That can't be good," said Paris, through the darkness.

**The Nelson**

Kim could only watch helplessly as the Pralor ships open fire on Voyager. There was nothing he could do -- the runabout's phasers weren't operational yet, and one blast from the larger ships could turn him and the suddenly tiny shuttle into scrap. He briefly considered ramming them, but self-preservation deleted such a course from his mind.

At the very least, it seemed the Pralor weren't trying to destroy the starship. According to the Nelson's sensors, the larger ships were firing glancing blows to the shields. The fighters seemed to be doing most of the work; Kim watched as one dipped under a recently created hole in the shields and proceeded to target precise points on Voyager's port nacelle. But this pointed to the suggestion that the Pralor were trying to capture Voyager, instead of the less desirable option (at least from Kim's point of view) of destroying it. 

Which still left the question: what was Kim going to do ?

What could he do ?

Kim heard a noise behind him. Lacking anything else to do, he turned around.

A stun blast hit him in between the eyes.

**The Bridge**

Almost as soon as it had started, it was over. 

In the same abrupt suddenness, Voyager came back to life. The lights went on, the consoles beeped ready, and on the viewscreen, Janeway could see the Pralor ships disappear into the cloud.

"Mr. Tuvok, report," she said. 

"We have regained control of ship systems," the Vulcan said. "The Pralor ships are in retreat at... an impressive speed." 

"Bridge to Engineering. Damage report."

"Shields are down to 21%," came Torres' weary reply. "We've got damage to the port nacelle; nothing we can't handle, but I wouldn't recommend warp speed for a few hours."

"Understood." 

Janeway spent the next fifteen minutes receiving reports from all over the ship, but she couldn't shake off a sudden suspicion that she had forgotten something. What that something was occurred to her halfway through a round of complaints involving the stress levels of the crew. "Hold on a moment, Doctor," she said, as she discontinued the comm link to Sickbay. "Chakotay, where is the Nelson ?"

The first officer checked the console. "It's just a few million kilometers away -- it's just sitting there."

Janeway had him open a channel to the runabout. "Voyager to Nelson," she said, "situation is under control. You can come back now, Harry."

Nothing.

"Harry, you can come back now." 

Still nothing.

Something must be wrong with his comm system, thought Janeway. Or ours, for that matter. There was one way around that problem. "Computer," she said. "Link me to Ensign Kim's comm badge, on the shuttlecraft Nelson."

The computer beeped. "Contact not made."

"Route signal through secondary subspace array."

Another beep. "Contact not made."

"Why ?" asked Janeway. Both the primary and secondary arrays, she thought. I'll have to tell B'Elanna...

"Ensign Kim is not on board the shuttlecraft Nelson."

"What ?" exclaimed Janeway.

"Ensign Kim is not on board the shuttlecraft Nelson."

Some problem the virus left behind, thought Janeway. But why the Pralor do that ?

The Pralor...

The horrible truth dawned on her. The simple, horrible truth.

**The Pralor Ship**

Kim woke up with an incredible headache, right in the middle of his skull. Lord, he thought sullenly, what did I drink last night ?

And in that abrupt fashion in which all bad memories come to mind after waking up, Kim remembered his encounter with a stun blast. In the shuttle. While Voyager was being engaged by the Pralor. 

The Pralor. He had been captured by the Pralor.

No, he told himself. It couldn't be. It was all a dream. You just had a nightmare. Some chemical thing in the brain. Maybe there had been something wrong with the spaghetti he had had for dinner. Or perhaps Neelix had mixed a little too much Vulcan mocha root into the hiwqu ice cream he had ordered for dessert. Yes, that was it. That ice cream had tasted a little too sweet...

But the padding under him didn't feel like his bed. And the dim yellow light shining into his face wasn't the calm fluorescent of his quarters.

I know, he thought. You're in tactical training; Tuvok decided everyone needed a quick drill to keep alert. You were hit with a phaser blast on stun, during a war exercise of some sort. In a few seconds, Paris will be looking down on you, laughing and offering you a hand. 

In that exact moment, a face did appear to look down on him.

A silver face.

The face of a Pralor robot. 

I'm on the holodeck, Kim thought. Something went wrong with the circuitry, it's just a temporary problem...

Oh, God, this can't be happening.

"Ensign Harry Kim," said the robot.

That mechanical voice. That unmistakable, unnatural voice ripped through Kim's delusions, his last defense against the black tide of despair. 

Instinct kicked in as the tide flooded his mind. Kim tried to get off of the padding on which he lay. The robot placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back with inhuman strength. 

"My apologies for the discomfort of Ensign Harry Kim," said the robot. "The weapon used to stun Ensign Harry Kim was of a new design and untested. This unit suggests that sleep will help Ensign Harry Kim recover."

Kim lifted his arms. He grabbed the robot's wrist, tried to pull its hand off his shoulder. It was to no avail; the robot, the machine, was too strong.

"This unit," said the robot, "will provide a sedative."

The robot's other arm came up. Before Kim could react, he felt cold metal against his neck, and heard the hiss of a hypospray.

The robot said, "This unit suggests Ensign Harry Kim relax."

Its arm let go of Kim's shoulder as the sedative took effect. Kim was helpless to stop his muscles from relaxing, his body from crumpling back against the padding. Helpless to do anything but look up at that hideously mechanical face, the light glaring off of its silver skin.

Kim looked up into the robot's silver face, and his last defenses against those inevitable, horrible thoughts broke down. The robots had won. Voyager had been at their mercy; he did not know her fate. He himself was in their machine grasp, in the complete control of the Pralor robots.

Despair overcame him, flooding his soul. Washing away his every emotion, everything that made him human. It encompassed his consciousness, unrestrained by any defense he muster, every emotion he could feel.

Until darkness, mercifully, overcame him, and he thought no more.


	2. Chapter 2

Star Trek:

The Borg Chronicles

by

Moshe Ender

NightDark@aol.com

Based on Star Trek, created by Gene Roddenberry. All rights reserved by Paramount Pictures.

Author's Note:

May I suggest that the reader, should he or she be new to this series, go back and read the prior parts of these chronicles.

As I am not privy to the thoughts of the writers and producers of Paramount's Star Trek, this sequence roughly diverges from the Paramount story at about the beginning of the 1997-98 season. Voyager has passed through Borg space (the "Scorpion" episodes) and the Federation is at war with the Dominion\Cardassian alliance. It is best to expect differences from the official Paramount storyline.

2:

The War and the Rescue

"The only lesson history has taught us is that man has not 

yet learned anything from history."

-- Anonymous

popularly attributed to a Vulcan

**The Pralor Armada**

**Nearing First Station**

Forth came the Pralor ships from subspace. When their warp faded, only one of them remained cloaked. As the others dropped behind to watch their path, the cloaked ship came forth on impulse. And there before it was First Station.

First Station was not the first station the robots had built. It was called that because it was the most important station, more important than every ship and every base the robots had ever built before. And to that end, it was surrounded by ships, some silver, some gold. And through the fleet the cloaked ship moved, and it came to rest, still cloaked in its twist of spacetime, connected carefully to First Station's docking port.

**The Voyager**

**Conference Room**

**Stardate 53000**

There was an empty chair in the conference room.

Katheryn Janeway tapped her hand against the hard metal table. She had grown to hate the colorful view of nebula outside the window behind her. It was a constant reminder of the empty chair and the missing face on the bridge. Voyager had known only nebula for two days, while Harry Kim had long been introduced to stars.

"B'Elanna ?" asked the captain.

"We'll have the warp drive online in an hour," said Torres. She looked tired, every line of her face showing fatigue's heavy hand. "I can't promise anything above warp 6 until tonight. Other than that, everything else's as good as new."

"Excellent," said Janeway. "Tom ?"

Paris was worse off than Torres. He looked two decades older -- like his father, Janeway thought. "No tachyon radiation to speak of," he said. "There is this low-level subspace trail, but I can't believe the Pralor would leave anything so obvious. It's probably some sort of red herring."

"Keep an eye on it," said Janeway. "It may be all we have to follow up on. Tuvok ?"

The Vulcan's contrast to Torres and Paris was too large to be ignored. Not even a hair was displaced on his brow. Yet Janeway knew he had been up for every second of the last three days. If Vulcans are good at anything, Janeway thought, they are good at illusion.

"We have successfully isolated and destroyed the Pralor computer virus," said Tuvok. "However, we have yet to determine the source of the virus within Voyager's network, or how exactly it managed to override so many command codes."

"Keep working on it," said Janeway. "Dismissed."

The crew limped slowly from the conference room. Torres hung back, waiting until the door slid shut after Chakotay. "Captain ?" she said.

"Yes, B'Elanna ?"

"Something has to happen soon," said B'Elanna. "It's tearing Tom apart. If we don't find Harry soon, I don't what he'll do."

Janeway sat back and sighed. "It's shaken all of us up, B'Elanna. We'll find him soon. We'll find if we have to tear up the quadrant six or seven times over."

"Yes, ma'am," said Torres. She seemed to relax, just a tad. "Thank you, Cap... Kathryn."

The engineer left. Janeway got out of her chair and went towards the door. She looked back for a moment, and just for a second saw the empty chair, with the nebula hanging behind it. The captain shivered, and made her exit with unusual haste.

**Intersection**

It is hard for one with a human's limited communication to describe what goes on outside of Timespace. It would be even more difficult to describe what was going on at this particular meeting. Only a small idea of the events can be projected, like a shadow onto a wall. The best context for this description is as follows, though it be only cliff notes to the real thing:

"Touchdown, Federation !" blared the TV.

Applause and boos from the group on the couch nearly drowned out the call. "That was hardly fair," said the man relaxing in the brown easy chair.

"Oh, don't be a spoilsport," said the father of the house, carefully balancing his child on his knee. "Remember, we chose the humans for this one."

"And what about the Fourth Fleet ? You call that fair ?" chimed in another spectator. He pointed his 'Homonids #1' glove at Easy Chair, wagging the huge finger up and down.

"That's just good strategy," said Easy Chair.

"Oh, please !" Glove sat back with a growl. "Look, look what they're doing now to the Terrell group. It may be strategy, but they're still playing dirty."

**USS Clark Terrell**

**NCC-9552 **

**Miranda-class Federation starship**

**Stardate 52995**

**The Cardassian Border**

The console just a few feet away from Ensign Jose Allen exploded. It hit the Ops officer full in the face. Out of the corner of his eye, Allen could see the officer collapse to the floor, a bloody mess.

Through the smoke, the Captain cried, "Return fire on that frigate !" The tactical officer was still alive, for the time being, and responded. Phasers leaped out, and a torpedo jumped from its tube. It all threw itself across a hundred kilometers, and ripped into the Cardassian ship. If its Jem'Hadar friends had seen the volley coming, none intervened, and perhaps could not. The frigate bloomed out with hot-red gas, and in a second was gone.

Not too long later, the Terrell was once again hit. Allen held fast to his console, and aside him the corpse jerked with the deck. The Captain yelled, "Tactical !"

"Phasers down !" came the reply. "Tubes not responding." It was the voice of the first officer. The tactical must be dead. Too bad, thought Allen. She was a nice girl. What was her name again ?

"Helm, right twenty degrees, maximum speed !" commanded the Captain. Allen's hands responded even before he heard the order, or remember he was at the helm. The viewscreen turned slowly. It passed over the battlefield; seven Federation starships, none more than a light cruiser, battling for their lives against Jem'Hadar and Cardassian ships. Strategy had been abandoned minutes ago, the battle lost as soon as it had begun. It was every ship for itself now; fight its way out, and run, and don't look back.

The Captain was silent. It was strange; Allen had always thought of him just as the Captain, nothing more. The Captain had a name. and Allen knew it; but what it was, he couldn't recall.

A Jem'Hadar attack ship circled from behind. Energy poured forth from its hull.

It suddenly came to Allen. The Captain's name, he thought, is the Captain. Why hadn't he thought of it before ?

The beam tore open the bridge, and Allen dove into the stars. 

**Intersection**

"War's a dirty game," said Easy Chair.

"Oh, sure," said Glove, folding his arms. "When you last played, the Sol system was just a good idea. And you tell me war's dirty ?"

"Hate to interrupt," the spectator next to Glove growled, whose temper was much the worst for having a large styrofoam finger poaked in his eye, "but some of us are trying to watch the game here !"

**Deep Space Nine**

**Stardate 52998**

**The Cardassian Border**

"So," I asked calmly, "how did it go ?"

"Fifteen freighters and all escorts destroyed," said the old Klingon seated across from me. There was a certain look on Martok's face; it wasn't gloating, and it was hardly regret. He seemed more satified than anything else, full like a man after a good, long Thanksgiving dinner. "Eight victories for the Rol'kar," he continued, "and five for your own Defiant."

"Really ?" I couldn't help but say, "Commander Dax told me it was six."

Martok shrugged. "I have already marked the Rol'kar's wall."

I couldn't help but smile at that. Klingons always make a scratch on a certain wall on the ship's bridge, like the American navy did during the second World War: one mark on the wall for every kill. But my smile vanishes in a moment -- I had news as well, not all of it good.

"One of the patrol squadrons was ambushed near the border," I said.

"The Fearless group; I heard," Martok said gravely. I can't help but wonder; have the Klingons really directed all their intelligence forces towards the Dominion ? But such thoughts are futile, and not really worth anything. The Klingons can look over our shoulders whenever they care to, as long as they keep fighting on our side.

"Were there any survivors ?" the general continued.

"The Prokofiev and the Cairo got away," I reply. "The Sheridan made it out, but they caught up to her. The Terrell and the Colonel, well..."

"If the Fearless was there, they would have had a chance," said Martok. "You can't have groups of smaller ships waiting around. Too tempting a target."

"Perhaps we could have cloaked ships guarding them ?" I suggested.

It was more a request than a suggestion, and Martok knew it. "I will coordinate with the captains."

"Excellent." Having no further business, he departs. A human might have felt it necessary to spent another few minutes, exchanging social niceties. But not a Klingon. War is food and drink to them, and conversation over a meal is hardly necessary.

There are a hundred reports on my desk. I do not wish to do any of them. So I ignore them for the moment, swivel around in my chair and face the great window behind me. At the very edge, there is Bajor; the third planet from the sun. War-torn, strategically valuable, scars still left from a long and brutal Cardassian occupation, in more ways than one. 

And yet, engagingly beautiful.

I look over left, to the center of the mirror. Estimates of kilometers and trajectories and angle of views, all learned in the Academy days and rusty with the years, fill my head for a moment. Right... about... there. I mark the place with the edge of my thumb. The spot is as dark as the rest of space; on first glance, those who didn't know better would say there was nothing there.

But I know differently. If you piloted a ship to that exact location in space (like I did, all those years before the war with the Dominion, when I was new to DS9), something would happen. The neutrino particle around you would suddenly multiple. Radation levels would increase. Blue energy would open like a flower in front of you. 

And there it would be: the Bajoran wormhole. A slip in spacetime covering 70,000 lightyears in a few minutes. A construction maintained by beings so strange and so powerful that for thousands of years the Bajorans have known them as gods. As Prophets.

The beings rarely come into the equation. They let ships pass through, going between the two quarters of the galaxy the Federation calls the Alpha and the Gamma. For years they let Ferengi and Cardassians and Federation starships into the Gamma.

Not too long ago, they let the Dominion fleets through to the Alpha. Free to ally themselves with the failing Cardassian Union, and soon invade the Federation.

Only a few times have the aliens inside the wormhole intervened. They contacted the first man to go through their wormhole, all those years ago. And not too long ago, that same man managed to get them to close their wormhole, in the midst of a long push by the Jem'Hadar, giving the Federation a good, fighting chance to push back.

That man was me. I am Captain Benjamin Sisko. The Bajorans call me the Emissary. 

**Intersection**

"You have to admit," said a dark-haired spectator to Glove, "the Dominion is playing war rather well. The Jem'Hadar know what they're doing. Look at that Tig'vakal."

"Oh sure, Tig'vakal good, I'll admit that." Glove reached for the chips. "But the Federation gots the moral high ground. And they know where to put their best people. Now the Dominion -- they've got good skippers patrolling the backwater."

"Not all of them," said Easy Chair. "Ha'lovkon just delivered his report. He'll see a bit more action now."

**Stardate 52994**

_Report of the Battle: Capture of Romulan cruiser Senateheld._

_logged by First Ha'lovkon of fastattack 132-8_

_ _

_The prey was first identified by the 541-3 on stardate 52751, during the joint Romulan-Federation attack on the Lenel system. It was witnessed by assorted ships during various missions on stardates 52832, 52861, and 52911. On stardate 52991, the Senateheld was engaged by subfleet 4D, under the command of First Tig'vakal of the battleattack 85-4. According to Tig'vakal's report, the Senateheld seemed to have ran into the subfleet by complete accident. Immediately after coming out of warp, it turned about and attempted to cloak. All ships within range opened fire; the Senateheld eventually did managed to cloak, retreating at high warp speed. It had taken several hits, and Tig'vakal reported it was venting air from its aft hullplates. Subfleet 4D had other duties, and so four fastattacks, including this ship, were transferred from nearby patrol duties to pursue the prey._

_We intercepted the Senateheld in orbit of Irvis VI. Using the ice rings as cover, we were able to enter transporter range before the Senateheld could detect us (strategic credit goes to First D'lartan of the 612-2). The enemy shields were half down, enough for 49 soldiers led by myself to beam into the ship's midsection. We successful took the ship, with 12 causalities._

_The Senateheld is a type-8 Romulan light frigate, and is perhaps 30 standard years old. Upon capture, half of its computer systems had failed, and the engineering spaces had been flooded with radiation. Both were caused by battle damage, probably from its encounter with subfleet 4D. This combination left the surviving enemy crew unable to self-destruct their vessel. They were attempting to manually burn out the ship's systems when the boarding party arrived. 23 of the crew were captured or surrendered._

_The Senateheld was towed to the Talvarn shipyards for analysis by 132-8. The surviving prisoners were divided among the other ships, and deliver to the Cardassian ship Archon for processing._

_Glory to the Founders._

_End of report._

**Intersection**

"Hah !" said Easy Chair, pointing. "That'll cost 'em !"

"Ow," admitted Glove.

"They aren't done for yet," said the father. "The Feds still have time."

**Stardate 52996**

_Subject: RE: Request for Project Lead Wall_

_ _

_To: Commander Elizabeth Shelby_

_From: Command of Interior Defense (COMDEFINT)_

_CC: Captain Jean-Luc Picard, NCC-1701-E_

_ _

_We are sad to report to you that your request on the subject of Project Lead Wall has been denied. As a result of the present war with the Dominion, there are no resources available to continue Borg research. While we do understand that the Borg are still very much a threat, there are more close to home matters that demand our attention. We will continue analysis of the Borg technology in our hands, but we are afraid that is all we can promise. Again, our apologies._

_ _

_Rear Admiral Sakolna_

_COMDEFINT_

**Intersection**

"Honey !" shouted the wife from the kitchen. "Don't forget you have to check on the project !"

"I know !" called back the husband. "I leave in a minute."

"You don't have all eternity you know ! It's going to be online in only a week or so !"

"All right, all right, I'm going !" The husband carefully set down the child and got up from his chair with an annoyed huff. "Sorry. Be right back, and don't you dare steal my chair !"

He left. Glove jumped into the chair a millisecond later and got comfortable.

**Veridian III**

"And how has your end been doing ?" asked the father.

"The Dominion and the Federation are still at it," said the air.

"I know. Why haven't you stopped it ?"

"I don't think I can without being noticed. But I think we can use it to our advantage. Give the kid a workout before the coming."

"Not a bad thought. Still... these wars are always the same, even if they are mildly entertaining. I don't know what mortals see in it; it's such a waste of time and energy."

The air shrugged. "It's something to do on Friday nights, I suppose. How are things going with the Trinidas ?"

"Exactly as planned, provided dear Kathy doesn't wimp out on us."

**USS Voyager**

**Stardate 53001**

**Approaching First Station**

_Captain's Log, Stardate 53001.2. For lack of any other lead, we are following a subspace trail first detected by Mr. Paris a day ago. It is possible that it leads us into a trap, but I doubt it. If the Pralor had wanted to destroy us, they would have done so in the first place._

**The Bridge**

"I am detecting the end of the subspace trail," said Tuvok.

"Take us out of warp," said Janeway.

Around Voyager, the stars turned from streaks of light to their dotted selves. And on the viewscreen, a shape came into focus.

It was a space station, perhaps two kilometers in length and one in height. It was shaped as a flat triangle, and covered with silver and gold. Somewhere in the middle, a bright blue light shined into the dark through a clear piece of metal. 

And all around the station, there was nothing. Not a ship nor weapon in sight.

"Tuvok," said Janeway.

"Scanning the station now," said the Vulcan. "There is a spherical tachyon field, emanating from the center of the station. It is powered by a large antimatter reactor... impressive power readings..." He looked up. "Captain, I have detected Mr. Kim's comm badge. It is broadcasting medical telemetry."

In front of Janeway, Tom's eyes lit up.

"What is Mr. Kim's condition ?" she asked.

"Unconscious," said Tuvok, "but uninjured."

"Can we beam him out of there ?"

The Vulcan studied his console for a moment, then shook his head. "I do not believe so. The tachyon field is too dense in his area. However, we may be able to beam onto the station, at the very edge of the field..."

Janeway did not even have to agree. "Chakotay, Tuvok."

Her gaze lingered on Paris, who turned around in his seat. "Captain," he said, and there was pain in his eyes, "please."

Janeway considered for a moment, then nodded once. 

A swish of the turbolift, and they were gone.

**First Station**

The phaser rifle was heavy in Tom's hands, and he couldn't fully open his eyes. Only stubbornness kept him moving, with assistance from three nights full of sleepless angst and twelve and a half cups of strong Talaxian coffee. 

The away team moved through the Pralor station's corridors. The halls were large, three meters tall and wide enough to accommodate a shuttlecraft. They were coated with a strange material, a blue plastic that slightly gave way when Tom stepped on it. 

The lighting needed work. To be more specific, it needed to be installed. There was no illumination in the station's hallways, save the flashlights the away team wore on their arms. The night around him sent a small chill down Tom's back. No one really liked the dark, he thought. Apparently the Pralor were the exception.

They continued down the hall, Tuvok in the lead, holding a tricorder in front of him. It chattered quietly in the dark, plotting a course through the labyrinth of corridors. So many twists and turns, but this was the most direct route, or so said the little computer. It was as if this place had been specifically designed to get tourists lost. Knowing the Pralor, that was probably what they had intended.

"I believe we are getting close to Mr. Kim," said Tuvok. "Down this hall."

Home stretch, thought Tom. Hold on, Harry.

Was that a light near the end of the hall ?

The station shook violently.

Oh, great. Now what ?

**The Bridge**

Janeway jumped out of her chair. "What was that ?" she demanded.

"Explosion on the far side of the station," said Ensign Chell at Ops. "Warp signature with exterior explosion -- some sort of long-range antimatter torpedo."

"Ship detected," said the lieutenant at Tactical. "Incoming at warp 9.4. ETA in nine minutes, twenty-five seconds."

"Anything else you can tell me ?" asked the captain.

"Not until it gets closer, ma'am," said Tactical.

"Bring weapons online," said Janeway.

"Shields ?"

"Not yet." She sat back down. "Voyager to Away Team," she snapped to the air. "We have company on the way !"

**First Station**

"Understood, Captain," said Chakotay. "We're almost there."

The light was closer, and it was there. A few more yards and one more corner to round.

They were at a fast jog now. Formation had fallen apart now, and Tom sprinted ahead. Hold on, Harry, he thought. We're coming, we're coming...

Paris turned the corner and jumped back into the wall behind him. 

This was partially because another long-range torpedo hit, jostling the floor again.

It was also because of the Pralor robot who stood motionless in front of him.

**The Bridge**

"Contacts !" said Ops. "Five more torpedoes on the way. ETA to station twenty seconds !"

"Lock phasers," said Janeway. "Helm, up the z two kilometers. Get us a clear shot."

The viewscreen changed as Voyager rose above the station. In the distance, farther than light could reach, the torpedoes came forth, at a speed only subspace radar could care to detect.

"Computer has acquired foremost torpedo," said Tactical. "Firing in three, two, one..."

Voyager fired five times. Two torpedoes ripped apart, their small antimatter explosion spread out by warp acceleration. Another rammed into the station's guts, lighting the dark with hades' flame.

The other two torpedoes dropped out of warp, missing their intended phaser beams by ten kilometers. They veered away from the station; it wasn't there target.

"Two torpedoes out of warp !" called Tactical. "They're scanning !"

Five hundred curses, collected through a long life of traveling, filled Janeway's mind. "Helm, down the z !" she yelled. "SHIELDS !"

Voyager dove down underneath the station. The torpedoes had long since acquired the only ship in the area. Their engines came back on, and with inhuman accuracy the torpedoes threw themselves towards their target.

**First Station**

Tom's phaser came up, and pointed right at the robot's chest. It took all the training he had ever had to keep from firing.

The Pralor looked him up and down. Other than that, it remained unresponsive, which was a curious reaction to having death literally poking him in the stomach.

Chakotay and Tuvok came around the bend, phasers raised. Again, the robot refused to respond.

Things remained like this for a moment or so, long enough for two more vibrations, one more distant than the other, to run through the station.

Tuvok was the first to move. "Where is Ensign Kim ?" he asked, presenting an exterior just as calm as the robot's.

Without a word, the robot stepped out of the way.

Harry Kim lay unconscious on a floating platform. He was inside a small alcove, right behind the robot and to the left wall of the corridor.

He was also laying unconscious in the alcove across the hall. And in the alcove next to it. And inside all the other alcoves, which stretched on down the hall.

**The Voyager**

"Damage report !" said Janeway, coughing on the smoke.

Tactical had been knocked off his feet. Ops was still up, and rerouted the needed displays to his half-functional console. 

"Direct hit to the starboard bow," said Ops. "Shields are down in that area. Hull breach on deck 4, auxiliary force fields in place."

Janewaywiped her jaw with her sleeve. "Pack a punch, don't these things," she said. "All right. Helm, keep us under the station. Ops, we're not going to have time for the team to get out of that tachyon field. Get me some options here."

"Yes, Captain."

**Transporter Room 2**

"Bridge to Transporter Room 2," said Janeway through the comm system.

"Torres here," said B'Elanna.

"We're going to fire an antitachyon pulse to disrupt the station's field," said Janeway. "It's going to leave a lot of subspace distortions, so put as much power into the transporter beams as you can."

"Understood, Captain."

**First Station**

"All right, let's sort through this," said Chakotay. He touched his comm badge. "Chakotay to Ensign Kim."

Exactly twenty-five comm badges chorused in unison.

"Great," said Paris. "What'd they do, clone him ?"

"They are most likely holograms," said Tuvok. "Placed to slow Mr. Kim's recovery."

Chakotay nodded. He turned back to the robot, to whom all three phasers were still pointed. "Which one is the real Ensign Kim ?"

Behind the robot, a complex keypad materialized on the wall. The robot turned around, and with motions faster than the human eye could comprehend, began to type.

Twenty-five Kims disappeared into holographic oblivion.

And at the end of the hall, the wall that Paris had jumped into caved in. The plastic curled back into another alcove, and there was Harry Kim, asleep on a floating pad.

**The Bridge**

"Contact !" said Tactical. "Eight, no, ten torpedoes incoming !"

"Helm, prepare evasive maneuvers. Ready phasers." Janeway sat back in the chair, getting a better grip on the armrests.

"Away team to Voyager," said Chakotay's voice. "We found Harry."

Despite all that was going on, something in Janeway relaxed, just a little.

"Not a moment too soon, Chakotay !" said the captain. "Stay right where you are. Bridge to Transporter Room 3, prepare to energize. Tactical, lower shields. Ops, is the pulse ready ?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Fire."

**First Station**

Paris pushed the floating table. It moved, and held Harry steady on it.

"Get ready," said Chakotay, as Paris pushed Kim out of the alcove. "This may be rough."

Tom looked his friend over. He was a bit pale, but didn't look any the worst for wear. "What I'd tell you, Harry," said Tom softly. "Don't worry, next time I'll get captured, and you can come after me for a change."

Kim's eyes opened, just a little.

"There, what'd I tell you. Just hold on a sec, we'll have you in Sickbay in a flash."

Behind Paris, where Harry was looking, the robot moved.

Tom turned around long enough to see the robot fold its left arm across its chest, so its palm was on the right shoulder. The hand made a fist.

"We will be with you," said the robot.

"What ?" said Tom, not a little abashed.

The transporter beams swirled, and they were gone.

**Transporter Room 3**

Slowly B'Elanna dragged them in. Okay, keep your patterns up, she thought. Transfer them like so, and...

The away team appeared, plus a newly acquired member on a floating platform.

"Torres to Bridge," said B'Elanna. "Got them !"

**The Bridge**

"Excellent," said Janeway. "Helm, get us out of here, warp five."

"Captain !" said Tactical. "The ship ! ETA three seconds !"

"Correct that," said Janeway. "Helm, warp nine. Aft shields to full."

**First Station**

Voyager streaked away, just as ten long-range torpedoes dropped out of warp and began searching for target.

Two seconds later, another ship came out of warp. The torpedoes, of course, ignored the ship that had launched it. The newcomer considered the battered station below it, then turned to pursue the Federation starship that had just left.

It would have began the hunt immediately, had not flame spread from the station and had overtaken it.

**The Bridge**

"Captain !" said Ops. "The station !"

"On screen," said Janeway.

Then she was looking down Voyager's backbone, to what they had left behind. A nova had erupted, spreading its fiery breath cross space.

"The station's antimatter core," said Ops. "All that antimatter... they must have self-destructed, Captain."

"Captain," said Tactical, "the ship launching those torpedoes came out of warp right after we left. It must have been caught in the shockwave."

Janeway nodded thoughtfully. "Ops, did the sensors get anything on the ship ?"

"Reviewing data, ma'am." Ops said. A moment later, his head came up, shock evident in his eyes. "Captain, according to the computer, that was a Viidian ship !"

"Viidian ?" said Janeway. "We left their space years ago !"

Just like we left the Pralor, she thought. Out of sight, out of mind. Another mystery.

**Veridian III**

"Ha !" said the father. "I knew we could count on them !"

"That places everything on schedule," said the air. "All right, get a message to the watchers. Everything's set for the agreed date."

"Are you sure the kid's ready ?"

"Positive. All we need is the Emissary's signature."

"Perfect. Next week it is. Now, if you'd excuse me, I want to enjoy the game while it lasts." With that the father disappeared.

The air nodded thoughtfully. It put out a transparent appendage and leaned up against the metal wall that it was next to. "You hear that, kid ?" it said to the sleeping god. "The present game is over with. You're going straight to the championship."

And the champion slept…


End file.
